


Listen, I’m not sick

by protaganope



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom, Sick Character, but his personality in this kinda requires it, hes still sub tho just, it’s alex, oh yeah, shocking ik, we now know the one who’s dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 09:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protaganope/pseuds/protaganope
Summary: Hamilton is sick, and needs some care and attention. Who better to provide this, than Aaron Burr?





	Listen, I’m not sick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waitfor_it](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitfor_it/gifts).



> lovely, pls get better soon. this is for my unlucky n poorly datefriend yall

Listen, he wasn’t sick.

Alexander Hamilton struggled to level his breathing as he gathered up his papers from his office desk. It had been a busy day for him, multiple assignments having been set, as well as a double shift he’d been forced into accepting at his other work. So here he was, trying not to wheeze as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.

He had a plan.

He’d do half of his assignments in the conference room, then grab a snack and some drink at the convenience store across the street, before heading to his part-time. His vision swam a little with every movement, and he clung onto one of the tables momentarily as he waited for the sensation to subside. Ugh.

No sir, he wasn’t sick in the slightest, not ill or feeling under the weather—

“Shit, Hamilton, you look terrible.”

It wasn’t even a particularly loud comment, but it clawed against the inside of his ears anyway. Alexander turned, quicker than he should have done, and found the current source of his pain. 

Jefferson.

“Don’t you have other things to do other than irritate me, Thomas?” Alexander sighed out, pressing forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to not curl inwards as a almost entirely subconscious form of protection. The lights blared down from above and made his vision woozy.

“Not until 4.” Was the bright reply, saturated in the man’s familiar southern drawl. Strangely, he appeared completely disinterested in Hamilton himself, but rather the screen of his phone. Absorbed in some game, probably, Alexander scoffed.

“In all seriousness, Hamilton, you should probably go get some rest. I’m speaking from my own past experience; when I feel the way you must be, taking into account your demeanour and general stubborn nature, I spend a few days in bed.” Madison added, peering at him with furrowed brow. And wow, Alexander hadn’t even heard him walk over to join in with the conversation. Damn.

He must _really_ be out of it. See, Madison had suffered some nerve damage a few years ago, had gained a habit of loudly dragging his left foot if without his cane, which he tended to go without in the enclosed space of their shared office.

No matter. A few hits of caffeine and he’ll reach an acceptable standard of existence.

He can see the moment the dots connect to something in Madison’s head, because he sort of nods to himself before tapping Thomas’ shoulder.

A few moments of whispering between the two of them that only really served to tick Hamilton off, and Thomas sighed, standing up quickly from his perch beside Alexander’s desk and was gone in a flash. He would be happy that was the end of it, if not for Madison’s continued presence. If he hadn’t followed Jefferson, then it could mean only one thing.

“Alex, what’s this I hear about you being sick?” That thing, was 6 feet 4 inches of boss. George Washington.

Oh, shit.

“It’s nothing, sir,” At Washington’s unconvinced, probing state, he changed course, “Just a minor cold. It’s fine.” Alexander says. He opens his mouth to dress up his sentences, mind already whirring to think of a convincing argument to avoid the sanction he knows will come-

But Washington puts up a hand, stops him in his tracks.

“You’re done for the rest of the week, or until I deem you to be sufficiently recovered.”

What. 

“You’re kidding.” Alex could hardly believe his ears. This couldn’t be real. A raised eyebrow keyed Alexander in that, no, Washington was not, in fact, kidding. He looked almost offended at the implication that he was of character to joke in the first place.

So Alex nods, dumbly, and pointedly avoids looking over at Jefferson. Doesn’t need to look to know that the man was likely rejoicing at having the fortune of a Hamilton-free office space. Prick.

“Mr. Jefferson,” Ah, so Washington wasn’t done with his employees yet. Hamilton smirked as Thomas scrambled to respond. Madison only rolled his eyes, stumping back to his desk chair.

There was a silence before Thomas asks, half strangled, “Yes, sir?”

“Take Hamilton back to his apartment.”

Thomas’ hands come up to survey his desk. 

“Uh.” He takes a clear moment to formulate the words. “Mr. President, I’m a little stacked for work. I honestly can’t spare the time.”

It's shifty, and everyone knows this, but for some reason he’s let off. Washington’s gaze and question shifts to Madison, who snorts.

“Don’t look at me, I take too many medications to even entertain driving. And, if you had forgotten-“ he raps on his leg. “Hamilton’s building doesn’t have an elevator.”

Washington accepts this, and for a moment seems at a loss.

Then, the solution strolls into the room.

Specifically, a certain ~~victim~~  employee Aaron Burr. His old deskmate.

“Ah, Mister Secretary, I have some documents for y- What did Alexander do this time.” It wasn’t even a question. Aaron knew him too well.

“Burr. You’ll be taking Hamilton home. He’s sick.” Washington, cold as ever when it came to Aaron, barely even looked at him as he took the papers from his grasp. So maybe Hamilton was a little sick. He wasn't going to try and dispute this again, though, he wanted to live another day.

And Aaron, being the spineless, charming people-pleaser he has always been, simply nods his assent. His body language suggests him perfectly at ease with this predicament.

Alex knows better. He looks into those stupidly attractive, gorgeous brown eyes and sees pure, unadulterated fear.

Good.

“I suppose you need time to grab your belongings. I need to fetch mine, too, so we’ll make a stop at my floor on our way out… Hamilton?” Oops, he’d zoned out. The room was spinning. He staggers, and distantly hears Aaron curse to catch him. “You’re burning up.” He noted, the sudden realisation raising his voice slightly. A few more curses and Hamilton’s arm was heaved over Burr’s shoulders, stretching the joints a little unpleasantly.

Alex couldn't help the chance to complain. “Gee, Burr, just do whatever you want, I’m a sack of potatoes.” He said, voice thick with sarcasm. Aaron shot him a scowl, but otherwise ignored him. The throbbing in his head increased, and Alex tried to tug his ponytail loose. His brow furrowed with the strain. 

True to his word, Burr gathered up Hamilton’s (and his own) essentials before hefting the two of them and their bulky bags into the elevator. They both let out a deep sigh once the doors shut.

“So what do you want when we get to your place?” Aaron said after he got his breath back. 

Alex wasn’t about to let him off so easily.

“You.” He took pride in the way Burr choked at nothing at his response.

“You’re ill.” He protested.

“So?”

A beat, and Burr simply shook his head, fighting a smile. 

“You’re going to shower, eat and drink something, and then head to bed.” If he had a free hand, he’d have been counting them off with his fingers.

“With you?” That garnered a true laugh.

“Sure.”

* * *

They reached Hamilton’s apartment in good time, all things considered. The shower and food problems would need to be taken care of, and then he would be left with the task of getting the gremlin of a man to go to bed.

Hamilton pouted adorably as Aaron put the bowl of soup in front of him. His cheeks were flushed from sickness and embarrassment as Burr tried to feed him it. That was cute, but took a while. 

In the shower, he tried to wash Alex’s hair. Difficult, when the person you’re trying to wash keeps dozing off or moaning distractedly as you try and figure out how washing hair even works (it’s not like he knew how to do this from experience, he had never had enough to warrant learning how to care for it.)

When these two misleadingly difficult tasks were accomplished, he dragged Alex to his room for rest.

“Burr. Burr, Burr…” Hamilton rambled, “Listen, I’m totally not sick,”

“Uhuh.” Aaron replied, brow raised and tone sceptical, nonetheless humouring him.

Hamilton continued on like he hadn’t spoken. “So I think you really should kiss me.” Aaron smiled, fond. “Or… I could kiss you!” He huffed out a little laugh as Alex looked over at him, like he had only just realised there was more than one way to do something. “Burr, can I ask you a question?” 

“You just did.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be polite. Can I ask you a question— and if you say that I just did again I will murder you and make it look like an accident.”

“What would you do, beat me to death and then place a banana peel at my feet?” The bed was only just big enough for the two of them, not a single but not quite queen either. Hamilton had been insistent that he had to lay down too, though.

“ _Burr._ ”

“Yeah, okay, what is it.” It was late, Aaron rubbed at his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

With that question came a thousand possible implications.

Looking back at Alex’s eyes in the darkness only keyed him in to one.

“Why not.” It would seem that that was all Hamilton needed, because he swung over onto his side and a hand held steady the back of Aaron’s head. The grip wasn’t tight, it was merely there as an act of care.

In the quiet of the night, they leaned into each other, and kissed.

The first was chaste, a simple pressing of lips, the furnace of Alex’s core heating Aaron’s skin with every touch. It was a little awkward, what with the angle of them both being laid down on the bed, but it was nice. Sweet.

Alex moved away momentarily and was pleased to find Aaron chasing his lips with his own. A smirk rose to his face, and he kissed Aaron again. Followed the seam of his lips with his tongue and swallowed the gasp it elicited. Alex licked into the other man’s mouth and tangled their legs, happily moaning into Aaron’s embrace. One of Aaron’s hands came up to touch his hair, stroking the back of his head carefully, and Alex let out an encouraging noise.

They broke for air a little later, breath quick from passion.

“We should wait until you’re better, Hamilton-“ the words came out fast, rushed in Aaron’s obvious arousal.

“Are you uncomfortable with this?” Alex asked softly, eyes flitting to take in Burr’s expression.

Well… “No.” Aaron said into his shoulder.

“I’m fine.” Alex tried to placate him, soothing. “Can we continue?” Nothing in his tone seemed frustrated, and Aaron felt his heart swell.

“I suppose, but if you start to look worse I want to stop.” He mumbled.

“Okay.” And that was that. They shed their clothes like snakes and shared a laugh as Alex threw the small pile blindly onto the floor.

Alex leaned impossibly closer to Aaron as they resumed, squeezing one of his thighs with his own and clumsily grinding down onto it. He groaned quietly at the friction, feeling the pre from his cock damp his boxers. His breath stuttered in his throat, and in response Aaron’s lips trailed down from the bright pink of his own mouth to the crook of his jaw and neck. He strained, leaning his head back to allow more access, which Aaron easily took advantage of.

Aaron’s hand left his hair, and before Alex could whine in protest, he held firm at his hips, pulling Alex up to straddle him. When Alex tried to roll his hips, Burr jolted, breath caught, before tightening his grip on Alex’s sides, thumbs pressing at his love handles. At Alex’s sound of discontent, he whispered, just for him to hear.

“I can’t… give me a moment to hold on.”

But since when had Alex acquiesced to others? His voice came out suddenly, taunting.

“Really can’t handle even the smallest bit of action, huh, Burr?” He tried to move again, fruitlessly, but Aaron didn’t know that. “Maybe I shouldn’t listen to you, and just cum right here right now, instead of fucking your dick like you so clearly want.” A strained sound escaped Burr’s lips and Alex grinned something awful. “Or maybe I should rub you off until you can’t even think straight.” He grabbed Aaron’s hands, whispered a thank you as Aaron let go of Alex without a fuss. He grabbed both wrists in one hand and opened his mouth to speak.

“What do you want Burr?” At Aaron’s barely audible whine, he leant forward, tried to ignore the dizzy sensation and focused on the good. “Want me to fuck myself on your cock, not even let you touch yourself?” He took care in pronouncing each word, enjoying the sudden jerk of Aaron’s hips at the thought.

Alex let out a sigh, simply pretty out of context and additionally quite dirty in, and Aaron said something too quiet for him to make out. Asking to repeat it only reaped a shy mumble, so Alex kissed him deeply before demanding he speak up.

“I _said_ , half of that sounds good, but I really want to touch you.” Aaron seemed grumpy in having to reiterate, but Alex knew from experience that it was just embarrassment. And that was why he was the most considerate person in the world and tried to get him to say it again, voice saccharine sweet.

Aaron just flipped him off.

Huffing out a chuckle, Alex reached into the second drawer of his bedside table, pulled out the lube and a strip of condoms in a fluid motion. At first, he ignored Aaron’s weak hand asking to do it, gasping pleasantly at the cool wetness. He got two fingers working in and out, shivering at the pleasurable feeling and countering temperature, before his wrist started to cramp and he allowed Aaron to continue. Due to Hamilton’s own short fingers, he hadn’t been able to reach his prostate, and so Burr was happy to remind himself that such bundle of nerves did in fact exist. A low groan fell from his lips, before it morphed into a cough. He waved off Aaron’s look of concern.

He peeled the condom onto Aaron’s dick and slicked it up, laughing at the man’s flinch and complaint at how cold the lube was without first being warmed by his hands. It wasn’t that bad, he thought, and said so, delighting at Aaron’s grumbling response.

Easing himself down onto Aaron was simply divine. Alex’s back arched as Burr bottomed out, an obscene sound escaping him. Aaron wasn’t much better, brows drawn tight and hips snapping up to meet Alexander’s feeble movement from wobbling thighs. He ran his hands over Alex’s nipples, twisting the sensitive nubs with his fingertips, savouring the thick moan that said action reaped. And he was so hot. So, so hot. He could barely stand it.

This was his last coherent thought before his vision went white as he came. He kept fucking Alex, determined to keep his pleasure going for his sake. He would say he was doing a good job, if Alexander’s encouraging groans were any indicator.

Alex reached in front of himself to pull at his dick, pushing back the foreskin and rubbing his thumb over the head. Hissing, pressing down on the protruding vein near the top and tightening his grip as his hips quickened and thighs burned, it was enough to send him toppling over the edge. He came with a high whine, his orgasm slamming into him like a ton of bricks. He fell to the side of Aaron, onto the bed, and sneezed.

Ew. “Ew. You’re going to get me ill too, Hamilton.” Aaron muttered as he got up to grab a towel.

“Then we’ll have time off work to do this again.” At Burr’s stop and turned glare, he quickly corrected, “I’ll grab a tissue next time? I don’t think you’ll get it, anyway.” He tried to appease, tone carefully and deliberately light.

Aaron cleaned up with a reluctant smile after that, and the two of them fell into sleep.


End file.
